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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136597">Just across the hall in N13</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutsfan1/pseuds/Peanutsfan1'>Peanutsfan1</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friends to Lovers, LGBTQ Themes, Other, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Teacher AU, Will add more tags when I think of them XD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:21:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutsfan1/pseuds/Peanutsfan1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s chaos every day for teachers, no matter how prepared they are, no matter how many PowerPoints they’ve made, no matter how many years of experience… students find a way to make every lesson something different. It’s chaos, day in and day out, especially for Sigve Thomassen who now has to deal with an interesting, always smiling, new History teacher called Henrik Densen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Denmark/Norway (Hetalia), England &amp; Norway &amp; Romania (Hetalia), Iceland &amp; Norway (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The new History teacher</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">September</span>
</p><p>I take a deep breath as I stride into my classroom, noting the familiar smell of whiteboard markers mixed with the pleasant absence of body odour. The joy won’t last for long, thousands of children will soon rush in, allowing the classrooms to go back to their regular blend of sweat, deodorant, perfume, and pencil shavings. But I enjoy it while it lasts, placing my bag down by my chair. A smile stretches across my cheeks as I adjust the lone picture frame on the desk, myself and Eiki grinning at the camera, his miniscule fingers showing the classic ‘peace sign’.</p><p>Just me and my room. Alone.</p><p>It won’t last. As soon as you begin to hear voices drift through the corridors, students laughing, asking their friends loudly how their summer was before going on about theirs, that’s when you get slammed back into reality, back to counting down to the next summer. The next break. Sure, I love my job, but by God is it exhausting. Endless streams of essays, endless streams of questions, endless PowerPoints being created again or recycled again, more information being added with every year.</p><p>Over and over and over again.</p><p>The silence doesn’t last long, even shorter than I’d anticipated as Vasilica slams open my door, bursting through with Arthur not so far behind him. The Drama teacher grins, displaying his abnormal pointed teeth (which between us three have nicknamed ‘vampire fangs’ due to his Romanian heritage), immediately holding his arms out for a hug.</p><p>“Sigve! I missed ya like crazy this summer, come here!” So I entreat him to a hug, patting him on the back slightly before pulling away. </p><p>“Missed you too, Vas.” I nod at Arthur who nods in response (Vasilica always was the more hyper one out of the three of us), then brushes stray blond hair out of his face, the corners of his lips twitching.</p><p>“Oh, Sig,” Arthur begins, leaning against the white wall, “Have you met the new History teacher? Mrs Newberry’s replacement?” My new colleague? Solid no. When Mrs Newberry (the sweetest old soul) announced she was retiring, a sinking feeling appeared in my stomach at the thought of a new teacher and never left.</p><p>It would be fine if the new teacher were, say, a PE teacher, I wouldn’t have to cross them. But a history teacher? That’s my department. That means someone I don’t know, someone who could be incredibly annoying is going to be working here for the next however many years and I have to deal with them.</p><p>This means I might have to deal with the most annoying piece of crap on the planet for <em>years</em>. So I have been trying not to dwell on it, not to think about it in the slightest (although that’s all gone down the drain just now).</p><p>“I haven’t, no.”</p><p>Vasilica’s eyes widen, “Ah, we both saw him just a few minutes ago. He’s a nice guy, I think roughly around your age? Cute as well.” At ‘cute’ Arthur and I roll our eyes jokingly. Vasilica is the only openly queer teacher at this school (I don’t know if there are any others but if there are then they’re closeted), being unashamed and, well, very open about being bisexual. Of course there’s been the odd complaint from parents, and a few students make remarks sometimes (they get told off immediately) but other than that I’d say the response to him coming out has been a positive one.</p><p>“I second what Vasilica says, he seems like a nice guy though I will say one thing.” Oh no. Here it comes. And oh look, the worry and the sinking feeling are back once more. Great.</p><p>“I know you, Sigve. And based on your personality, you will either love or hate this man.”</p><p>Oh fuck.</p><p>I knew it.</p><p>The next however many years are going to be hell.</p><p>I am aware I can be quite opinionated, which stems from a lifetime of being annoyed by people easily. It’s hard for me to find people to connect to which is probably why I don’t have many friends. That and my lack of a social life outside of work due to always being busy doing this that and the other.</p><p>“I wouldn’t worry though!” Vasilica exclaims, fiddling with his lanyard, “I’m sure it’ll be fine!” I don’t think so. I don’t think so. I don’t think so. God, these next few years will be hell, especially the beginning of this year when he’ll be eager to get to know everyone, myself included. Yikes.</p><p>They both give me one more reassuring smile before heading off to their respective classrooms, trying to get ready for the eventual chaos that looms over us, making the air heavy, stifling breaths.</p><p>And me? Well, I make sure my room is in order, make sure it’s tidy even if that tidiness will disappear rapidly. I make sure the pencils on my desk are sharpened. I make sure the whiteboard is scrubbed clean, ready for the markers to dirty its surface once more. I make sure my computer is on, my login details typed in. Ready. Waiting.</p><p>I try to make sure that I’m ready for the chaos, ready for this new teacher. I try. But trying is not enough at this moment, the dread settling on me like a fresh coat of snow.</p><p>There’s a knock at the door, a steady rhythm, so I muster up a small “Come in”, eyes not drifting away from my desk.</p><p>“Hi there!” A friendly unfamiliar voice says so I finally glance up, taking in a man with gravity defying hair, a wide grin, and a brightly coloured plaid shirt. </p><p>“Hi…” I add, not really knowing what else to say. Fuck. Why do I have to be so bad at talking to people? God, I hate it. </p><p>“Um, I’m sorry, do you mind telling me where I can find N11? I’m new here.”</p><p>“N11? That’s just right opposite this room.” I say, stifling a laugh (I mean, the room numbers are on the doors, and this is N13). If he’s going in N11 (and noting the large box in his hands) then he must be the new teacher. My new co-worker. Oh God. How do I handle this?</p><p>The man bursts out laughing, a loud laugh that startles me slightly, bending over as he gasps for breath, “Oh my God. I just fucking- the room opposite-” At least he laughs at his mistakes I guess. Once he composes himself he walks over to me, sticking out his hand as he repositions the box, “I’m so sorry about that, I can be a huge dumbass at times. Henrik Densen, I’m the new History teacher.” </p><p>I take his hand, letting my lips twitch into a small smile out of politeness, “Sigve Thomassen, your fellow History teacher. You Scandinavian too?”</p><p>“In fact I am Danish, yeah,” Henrik grins, still shaking my hand (damn, that’s a long energetic shake). </p><p>“Ah, cool,” I say, eyes drifting downwards, “I’m Norwegian.” He finally let’s go of my hand, exclaiming that it’s cool before grabbing one of the chairs, pulling it up to me and placing down the box of belongings on my desk, causing me to knit my eyebrows in confusion.</p><p>“So…” He begins, the smile becoming more of an awkward one as I stare at him, “It seems I’m gonna be here for a while.” Oh boy… “So I thought we could get to know each other better, especially since your classroom is directly opposite mine.” Henrik the new teacher fiddles with his hands before letting them rest on knees.</p><p>I guess getting to know each other a bit better wouldn’t be too bad, it’ll at least allow me to determine whether I’m going to hate this guy or not. He seems… interesting so far, to say the least.</p><p>“Are you married?” He starts, brushing his hand through his hair, and I take the time with my mind focused on his question to look for a ring. There isn’t one. He’s unmarried. </p><p>“I am not. No.”</p><p>I was once, but I don’t want to go into that. Too personal, too many follow-up questions. Not something I feel comfortable talking about to pretty much a stranger.</p><p>“Ah, same here. I would like to be one day though,” He smiles once more, a wide grin with teeth, eyes shining with hope. No idea whether I want to get married again. Guess it depends on if I feel I’m with the right person. I’d have to be cautious too.</p><p>One failed marriage, and people think ok, fine, maybe it was the other person, there’s probably nothing wrong with this person. So dating is still a pretty good and viable option. However, two failed marriages and then people start to question whether the problem isn’t the other person and whether it’s actually you.</p><p>I get one more shot at this and I’ve got to make it count, I guess.</p><p>“Whereabouts did you work before you came here, Henrik?” I ask, meeting his eyes, noticing the blueness of them for the first time now that he’s up close. </p><p>“Around about the London area, there’s this school called Meadowview. Didn’t really like it there, students were a nightmare, and the rest of the staff were unpleasant. Just… didn’t feel like the environment I wanted to work in, you know?” I nod. Yeah, I get that. The school environment is definitely a deal breaker for most people.</p><p>“You never been to this town, have you?” I add and he nods sheepishly, “Where are you staying?”</p><p>This is actually going quite well, I would say. I mean, I’m actually asking someone questions for once so, quite frankly, it’s a miracle. Henrik seems interesting, interesting but also very nice and I don’t think I’m going to find myself hating him. He actually seems like someone I could get along with and maybe one day feel comfortable around. I don’t know about that last part. Maybe is the key word.</p><p>“Um… I’m down by one of the churches, roughly around a twenty-minute walk from here? On Victoria Road I think?”</p><p>“Ah, yes, I know where you’re referring to. Nice place, got some pretty surroundings.” Great place to walk around, take some pictures, that sort of thing. He picked a nice area to live in, that’s for sure. </p><p>“Yeah, I’m going to like taking my dog on walks round there.” Oh, he has a dog. That’s cool. I have my fair share of pets. No dogs but yeah.</p><p>“Are the staff and students nice here?” He fiddles with some of the items in the box, a Danish flag, a photo of him surrounded by quite a few other people, maybe friends, maybe family, I’m not sure. </p><p>“I would say so. I’ve been here for several years and they’ve always been pleasant.” Upon hearing this, he breathes a sigh of relief, lips twitching into a smile once more.</p><p>I glance at the clock on the opposite wall, checking the time. Almost time for first day chaos. “You should probably head to your room in a second, the students will arrive any second and I’d like you to have some time to one, get set up, and two, mentally prepare yourself,” I laugh a bit at the last part, letting him know that I’m joking slightly.</p><p>“Ah, cool! I will get out of your hair then,” He giggles, picking up the box, placing the chair back and heading to the door, “It was lovely meeting you, Sigve!” Damn, I’ve never met anyone this friendly and unfazed by me before. It’s weird, in a nice way. </p><p>I smile, “It was nice meeting you too, please let me know if you need anything, or if you’re confused about something. You know where to find me, just across the hall in N13.”</p><p>“Yep! Thank you!”</p><p>As he begins to open the door, something plagues the back of my mind and I call out, “Oh, Henrik?” Causing him to stop and look back at me, “Would you like me to show you round the town later, if you don’t have anything else going on?” </p><p>Henrik blinks at me, “Uh, that would be great, thank you, Sigve. And no, I don’t have anything going on, so I’ll see you then!” And he finally leaves my classroom, walking a few paces before entering his new home.</p><p>Second period begins with a beginning of the year assembly, to welcome the students back and welcome any new students to the school. I find a nice spot by one of the walls, observing my class and making sure no one misbehaves.</p><p>“Hi,” I hear a small whisper to my left and turn to find Henrik Densen, shooting me a soft smile. </p><p>“Hi,” I return, my eyes darting from my new co-worker to my students and back again. “How are you finding things?”</p><p>“Oh, great, thanks. Everyone seems really nice so far.”</p><p>“That’s good to hear.” I answer and we fall back into silence, my focus on the head, Tolys, giving his small speech (one that’s practically the same every year), stumbling over his words slightly (poor man is very very shy, makes you wonder why he’s the head). </p><p>“And this year we have a new staff member joining us, to replace Mrs Newberry. Everyone please give a warm welcome to Mr Densen, our new History teacher.”</p><p>The man in question shoots me another soft smile before walking up to the stage, displaying his bubbly, excitable nature to the school for the first time.</p><p>The rest of the day whizzes by in a flash, after the first couple of lessons I feel back in my environment, more prepared and ready for the year that will unfold. It seems that, along with everyone discussing their holidays, students are also discussing their opinions on Henrik, wondering what sort of teacher he will be. I wonder past some students who must have had him as a teacher, saying how excitable and nice he is. Hm, interesting.</p><p>And even after a crazy long day, it appears that Henrik still hasn’t run out of energy, despite being a thirty-five-year-old man like myself. I show him round the town, pointing out specific highlights like the town centre, especially the shopping centre renowned for being a place where members of the royal family have visited in the past.</p><p>Throughout the entire tour, I keep wondering to myself, is this really who Henrik Densen is? A nice, friendly guy? Is there more to him that I’m yet to discover? A hidden side?</p><p>I guess only time will tell, honestly.</p><p>This year is going to be interesting to say the least.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Field day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">October</span>
</p><p>I’m in the middle of eating my lunch peacefully by myself when Henrik decides to storm into my room, slamming the door behind him. For the first time the happy demeanour has completely disappeared as he frowns, practically fuming. I have never seen him angry before and honestly, the way he looks right now sends chills down my spine. He just… doesn’t look like himself. Not in the slightest. He’s transformed into a complete other person.</p><p>Oh fuck. What did I do? Is this about me? Is it about someone else?</p><p>I-</p><p>I hope to God this rage is not directed at me.</p><p>He stops when he sees my face, and suddenly he’s Henrik Densen again, still pissed off but not to the extent he was beforehand, mouth stretched into a pout.</p><p>“Hey, Henrik? You alright?” I ask tentatively, placing down my sandwich.</p><p>“You know those cookies the canteen sells? The ones with the chocolate chips that have that perfect crunch on the outside and then a gooey inside?” His voice is light, and the rage is slowly ebbing away, slowly but steadily.</p><p>“I’ve been here for several years, so yes I know those cookies. Why?”</p><p>“Well,” He begins, sitting down on the edge of my desk, “I always buy one when I get lunch here and I love them. But today, today of all days I am cookie-less.”</p><p>Ok… weird. Is this what he’s mad about? Not having a cookie? What the fuck, Henrik? It’s just a cookie. It’s nothing to look like you’re about to murder someone over.</p><p>But I keep my mouth shut. After all, Henrik is still new here and although he comes into my classroom a lot when we have a free period, he’s not a person I can be blunt with just yet. No. He’s only been here a month.</p><p>“Why are you cookie-less, Henrik?” I sigh, wondering what the answer is.</p><p>“Because some bitch in front of me bought the last one and then smirked at me afterwards! The absolute nerve!” Yep. He was mad about a cookie. Oh my God. If he’s that mad over a cookie (and I don’t care how good the cookies are in the canteen, it’s still nuts) then I don’t want to see him when he’s mad about something serious.</p><p>I look him dead in the eyes and decide to entertain him, saying deadpan, “Really.”</p><p>“Yes really!” He pauses and looks at me, “Wow, Sigve you look dead inside. I- oh- is it because I’m angry about a cookie?” Henrik looks so genuinely surprised, as if he’s just realising how stupid he sounds. “What is it that kids’ say nowadays, ‘oof’? If so, oof, I just realised how crazy I sound.”</p><p>He lets out a big laugh and I honestly think this man does not get embarrassed at all, or even feels awkward for that matter. But then I remember the small awkward smile he has occasionally, and I realise even confident, friendly Henrik Densen suffers from embarrassment and awkwardness like the rest of us.  </p><p>Like I’ve said, he’s certainly… something.</p><p>My lips twitch into a small smile while he continues to laugh. “I swear to God, why am I such a fucking dumbass? But still, I’m annoyed mainly that he had the guts to smirk at me, like what a jerk. Ok, fine, have your cookie, but don’t rub it in my face.”</p><p>“Which teacher or student was this?” I finally pick up my sandwich again, watching my co-worker with amusement.</p><p>“I can’t remember his name, but, um, the fucking Physics teacher, the one with blond hair and glasses.”</p><p>“Oh… you mean Berwald Oxenstierna. Wouldn’t think he’s the smirking type, but I’ll believe you.”</p><p>He flashes me a smile as if to say ‘good’, and I have to refrain from bursting out laughing at how ridiculous this is. Just… a fucking cookie. I swear to God if that doesn’t scream Henrik Densen to you I don’t know what does.</p><p>“Who even wants to be a Physics teacher anyway? Oh yes, I just decided I wanted to teach the most boring subject in the world. God, it’s even worse than <em>Geography </em>and that’s saying something.” I nod. I actually agree with him on this part of the whole cookie thing. But only this part. The rest is crazy nonsense.</p><p>“And besides, did you know he’s Swedish?” I nod once more, it’s a pretty well-known fact that Berwald is in fact from Sweden. “It’s like we’re meant to hate each other, he’s Swedish, I’m Danish – we are natural born enemies, Sigve!” He glares as he takes a bite of his wrap.</p><p>“All I wanted was a fucking cookie,” He adds as he pouts, and this whole ordeal reminds me so much of a child who didn’t get what they want that I finally can’t hold it in any longer. I burst out laughing.</p><p>*</p><p> I thought the whole cookie thing would blow over but turns out I was wrong. Every time Henrik passes Berwald in the hallway he shoots him a glare, which Berwald responds to by sticking out his tongue. They have this entire petty rivalry going on that I don’t quite understand to be honest, and I’m even more surprised that Berwald is reciprocating this and going along with it.</p><p>Even after working with that man for the entire time I’ve been here, I did not anticipate that Berwald would stoop to some petty rivalry. Guess I don’t know some people as well as I thought I did.</p><p>Plus it’s gotten to the point where I no longer find the cookie thing funny, just plain ridiculous.</p><p>As I’m teaching my year 11 class first period, I notice Henrik’s class getting led out of their room. I obviously stop dead in my tracks in confusion, which causes my class to crane their heads at the door, whispering things like ‘what’s going on?’ etc. I am also wondering these things, so I open the door, grabbing Henrik’s arm as he passes.</p><p>“What on earth is going on?”</p><p>He turns to me, a sheepish grin decorating his face, “We, um, we’re having a ‘field day’.” As if that clears anything up in the slightest. Henrik clears his throat before continue, not meeting my gaze, “I made a bet with the Swede. Told him I’d be better at him at physical activity. He disagreed so we’re settling this and finding out who actually is better. Spoiler alert! It’s gonna be me.”</p><p>“You’re doing what?” I say in disbelief, eyes widening. “What about lessons? You’re supposed to be teaching for God’s sake!”</p><p>“I’ll be teaching them a valuable lesson of how good I am at physical activity and how terrible the Swede is in comparison. Relax, Sigve, the students need a break anyway. Tolys is too nice to tell us off and his deputy head, I’ve forgotten what her name is, is away today so she can’t come down hard on us.” He smiles before patting my arm, and I’m still as confused and annoyed as when I first saw what was going on, “Relax, Sigve, it’ll be fine!”</p><p>Henrik turns away and starts walking along with his students, leaving me by myself in the corridor, muttering, “‘Need a break’? It’s October, for God’s sake! And Henrik, you’re new here, you should not be slacking off! Jesus Christ.”</p><p>I don’t really know how to explain the situation to my class, so I just tell them to come down to the field with me. Might as well show them what it’s like working with two man-children. Besides, they’ll never concentrate anyway once they hear what’s going on so we can either do no work in the classroom or on the field. My choice which I would prefer.  </p><p>When we arrive, there’s a spectacle to behold: Henrik and Berwald with plastic bowls tied to their heads, piled up with table tennis balls, running furiously and then tilting their heads to dump the balls in a bowl at the other end. What the absolute fuck…? Regardless they are going at it with immense dedication, desperate to prove how much ‘better’ they are than the other person (if you ask me, no one is ‘better’, and they are both as immature as each other).  </p><p>As soon as my crazed history coworker sees me after the insane plastic-bowl-table-tennis-thing has ended, he bounds up to me as if he were a dog, gasping for breath, “Hey- you- you came!” He doubles over, panting, hands on his legs and then looks up at me and smiles.</p><p>“I did. But only since I knew because of you we wouldn’t get a thing done today,” I nod my head over to my students, frowning.  </p><p>He pulls me into a hug, and I frown ever deeper, especially as the smell of sweat wafts up into my nose, “I’m still glad you came! Wish me luck.” I’m not going to do that because this entire thing is stupid and you and Berwald are acting like children. He grins at me as he runs back, yelling something at Berwald (probably about ‘how much better he is’). I don’t get paid enough for this shit.</p><p>And so it continues, period after period, making me constantly groan internally about how much the students and I will have to catch up on other days. Today’s a huge setback and it’s all that idiot’s fault. After the weird plastic-bowl-table-tennis-thing is the horseshoe toss, a game of football, a normal race around the field, volleyball (in which they rope their students into their opposing teams). The students are having an absolute great time, which would be good if I weren’t dying inside.</p><p>It’s fifth period when Timo Väinämöinen, the chemistry teacher in NL2, marches his class towards me, blond hair rustling in the wind before standing still with his hands on his hips.</p><p>What to say about Timo? Well at first glance you notice the blond hair in its sort of side parting, his signature constant wide grin that displays his temples, and his chubby physique. Oh, and sometimes if he’s wearing short sleeves you’ll notice his omnipod and freestyle libre (Timo has type 1 diabetes). As a teacher I heard he can be quite chaotic, but I’ve never witnessed it myself or talked to him enough to gage what his personality is like besides the constant grin.</p><p>“Well,” He starts, “What on earth is going on here?” His students dash towards my own, all of them being the same year group so they all meet up with their friends, chatting and giggling away.</p><p>“Apparently Henrik and Berwald are having a ‘field day’ and have just bothered not to teach, all because of some petty grudge over a <em>cookie.</em>”</p><p>Covering his mouth, Timo lets out a small giggle, “A cookie you say. Wow. That’s certainly something.” It’s something annoying that I seem to be roped into is what it is. He walks closer to me and I examine his tie, science themed it seems. Standing by my ear, he whispers, “Want to prank them? Teach the both of them a lesson?” Oh boy, do I just.</p><p>“Absolutely,” I say, glancing over at the two seemingly grown men continuing to act like children. Heck, my year 7 classes are more behaved than those two are and that’s saying something.</p><p>“Perfect,” His eyes narrow as he watches the two ‘rivals’, cupping his hands round his mouth, “Hey! Henrik! Berwald! Hi!” Both men turn, having just finished whatever non-teaching-activity they were just doing. “Sigve and I have decided that there needs to be a prize for the winner of this field day contest. Whoever wins gets pizza!”</p><p>I-</p><p>And who’s going to be paying for this pizza, Timo? Better not be me. I’m broke enough as it is.</p><p>The Finnish chemistry teachers turns back to me, a smirk of amusement as Henrik and Berwald immediately plunge into another activity, more energy going in than before, “Chances are this competition’s going to go on way past school’s finishing time, probably hours after. Berwald and I actually live together and ride in using the same car, so I’ll be stuck too. Pizza will motivate them to continue for much longer, till it’s really cold.” He leans in closer, “Here’s the fun part: the pizza’s for us. We’ll leave them a few slices but otherwise, all for us. Then comes phase two which I’ll explain once we’re inside.”</p><p>“So… I’m guessing we get to pick the type of pizza?”</p><p>“Oh absolutely,” We fist bump, and I smile. Seems like Timo isn’t too bad.</p><p> Hours later, Timo and I are sitting in a classroom, a pizza box each along with some sides. I’ve called my parents and they have agreed to look after Eiki for the night so that’s good. Don’t need to worry about that at least. Turns out phase two of the plan (after telling the man-children which classroom we are in) is to lock them out, forcing them to spend more time together (and hopefully rid this stupid petty grudge). We’ll give them the pizza slices, 1 mug of hot chocolate (to share, obviously) and a tent, just in case they decide to spend the entire night here.</p><p>If they can be petty children, so can we.</p><p>So when they trudge up to the room, expressions of betrayal and disappointment soon balloon on their faces as they notice the locked door. When Timo slides it open, they look hopeful until he places down the food, drink, and tent, and locks it again, allowing the disappointed expression to come back again.</p><p>“Sigve! Open up! Please! It’s freezing out here!”</p><p>I lock eyes with Henrik, who tries to pull the ‘puppy dog’ eyes on me. Yeah, no, that only works when Eiki does it. Not a grown man. Not falling for it, Henrik. “We’re not letting you in until you put this whole ‘cookie’ business behind you. This is completely ridiculous and the two of you are acting like children.” Even Eiki behaves better than this when he’s throwing a tantrum. At least he doesn’t know better.</p><p>“So you’re just going to leave us out here? To freeze?” He whines, slamming his fist on the door. Storming over to the other side of the room, I pick up mine and Timo’s coats and briefly open the door to throw them at them.</p><p>“There. Quit whining. You have coats, food, drink, and a tent if you so choose to use it. Now, don’t knock on that door until you two decide to finally act like adults. In the meantime, Timo and I are going to watch a movie.” I cross my arms and sit down, grinning as silence elopes us.</p><p>Turns out the two were more stubborn than that after all. Hours went by, they set up the tent and Timo and I decided to lay down on the classroom floor to try sleep. It became evidently clear that Henrik and Berwald weren’t going to set their petty differences aside. So in the end we all ended up sleeping at the school. Timo and I on an uncomfortable floor and Henrik and Berwald in a tent.</p><p>I’m still not quite sure who Henrik Densen is, but it seems I’m getting a clearer view fairly quickly.</p><p>Sometimes all you need is the smallest thing to change the way how you view people. It can even be as small as the last cookie at lunch, or a smirk. But it sets in motion a domino effect, getting larger and larger and larger. Henrik, it appears, can be quite childish and stubborn – and so can Berwald, a man I’ve worked with for years and didn’t expect this from. And Timo? Well, Timo (whom I never knew very well) seems to be quite cool and a nice guy to hang out with (and pull a prank on two man-children).</p><p>Sometimes it only takes the smallest thing.</p><p>Like a chocolate chip cookie.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I'd say this is quite a comedic chapter (at least in my opinion) and I've never really written one before. It was extremely fun to write about the chocolate chip cookie problems and I hope you all enjoy reading it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A tiny temporary addition to my class</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry not sorry for the long chapter. In my defense, I thought it was only going to be 2,000-3,000 words. Also, apparently baby Ice makes words go nyoom lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">November</span>
</p><p>“What on earth do I do, El?” I sigh, resting my head on the nearest wall, defeated. “I mean, I have to work, I can’t call in pretending to be sick today, I’m needed. Is it possible for you to get off work or…?” Glancing in my bedroom mirror, I grimace at the very recent and very disgusting vomit stain on my crisp white shirt. The phone crackles in my ear as she lets out a heavy sigh of defeat,</p><p>“I wish I could, Sig. I have a huge presentation today so calling in sick is out of the question. I’m fairly certain Mr Smith would kill me; you know how he doesn’t like me, and this presentation is a chance to finally start working on changing his mind. What about your parents? Could they possibly take care of him?”</p><p>As I balance the phone on my chest of drawers, leaning to press the speakerphone button, I take off the now destroyed shirt. I’d just washed that too, dammit. And vomit isn’t the easiest thing to get out, especially with white clothing. This shirt is pretty much nearing the end of its lifetime unfortunately.</p><p>“My parents are out of town this week, remember? <em>Dammit</em>, what are we going to do? I have to be in today, so do you and I will never be able to find a sitter in time. This is far too short a notice.” There’s not much comfort from the other end, just a defeated hum, a tired strain on her voice, the whirring of brains of someone who is barely awake.</p><p>“It’s too bad your brother is always travelling for his work, Sig. He loves Eiki, those two get along like peas in a pod.” I finish buttoning up my grey waistcoat, my old shirt discarded, cast haphazardly on my bed now awaiting warm soapy water and a shit load of washing up liquid. Taking a few strides, I poke my head round the door to Eiki’s room. He’s still on his bed, his small arms wrapped around his blue bin, clutching it close as if it were one of his stuffed animals.</p><p>I place the phone to my chest, speakerphone now off, “How are you feeling now, Eiki?” The tiny head rises slowly and wobbly, bottom lip protruding into a pout, small sniffs punctuating his sentence, “Bad, mouth tastes <em>yucky</em>.” Yeah, that’s definitely not the face of someone who can go into school today. And what’s that rule again? Can’t go into school after at least 24 hours since you have thrown up? Besides, wouldn’t want to wipe out half the reception year with Eiki’s stomach bug.</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. I’m just speaking to Mummy right now so how about you go put on the TV and watch one of your favourite shows?” He wipes his teary eyes and obliges, slowly getting off his bed and… leaving the bin behind. “Eiki, take the bin with you please.” There we go, he’s got it now. I’ve already got a ruined shirt I don’t need a ruined carpet too.</p><p>Now to tend to the shirt in question, all whilst working out what the fuck we’re going to do. A rapid dash of water and washing up liquid, throw in the shirt, the phone left to my right, speakerphone button activated once more.</p><p>“Hi, sorry was just checking up on him. Doesn’t look great but that’s expected, illness really sucks the life out of people.” I scrub as hard as I possibly can on the stain. Come out. Come out. Come out. Goddammit, I really don’t want to have to buy a new shirt. There’s enough things I need to buy on a teacher’s salary without adding a new shirt to the list.</p><p>“Yeah. Any ideas? I’m completely stumped, it’s not like one of us could even bring him in, I mean… that’s a crazy idea, right?”</p><p>“Not- not completely crazy- that, that could work, El. Though I don’t think Mr. Smith would really like you to cart your four-year-old son into the meeting with you. I could take him, just have to keep him away from my students so no germs are spread.”</p><p>Her voice shifts to a more hopeful tone and I hear her scramble for her car keys in order to be on time, “Are you sure? If it’s no trouble, Sig.”</p><p>Internally sighing at the day I’m about to have, I force a smile onto my face, “No trouble at all. Hope the meeting goes well!”</p><p>*</p><p>“Alright, this is my desk and before I go grab you a chair, you can sit in mine,” I set down his lunchbox next to the mass of unmarked papers on my desk, helping him up. He immediately swings his legs slowly, looking at home already. Thankfully, he looks a bit better now so hopefully I won’t have to dive for my bin whilst teaching. Means he’s stopped crying now as well which is always a positive.</p><p>Ok, lunchbox set down, computer logged into, today’s date added to the board and the old one is erased. Now to grab Eiki a chair and come up with something to keep him occupied whilst I’m teaching.</p><p>Closest room is just across the hall. N11, Henrik’s room. Think I saw a glimpse of him just a second ago. Ah, yes, there he is, leaning back in his hair, sipping a cup of, I want to say coffee? Either way he looks as relaxed and chilled out as he usually does. It’s certainly been odd adjusting to his presence and to be quite frank, I still don’t think I’ve seen every side of him. Like I’ve said before, he’s… certainly something.</p><p>The question of who exactly is Henrik Densen haunts my mind, demanding an answer that I cannot give as if it were some sort of philosophical question that people spend their entire lives trying to figure out. I know he smiles a lot and has periods of awkwardness. I know he can hold petty grudges. I know that he always knocks on my door at least once a day without fail, eager to talk to me, try become friends. Hm, good luck with that, Henrik, I don’t often make friends, especially not at work - which is why in the, what, 6-7 years I’ve been here, I have a grand total of 2 friends. I know he has the craziest hair style which I also cannot wrap my mind around. He has freckles that cover his nose and cheeks and pretty much everywhere else. Also, I guess some people could call him attractive? He is, I guess.</p><p>And that’s all I know so far. It may seem like a lot, but it’s barely scratching the surface to me. Ugh, I’m dwelling too much on this again. Come on, Sigve, you have a job to do, remember? Idiot.</p><p>A short rapid knock is all I need to gain his attention, he immediately sets down the mug and beams at me, waving frantically.</p><p>“Uh, good morning, Henrik. I was wondering if I could possibly borrow one of your chairs?”</p><p>Eyebrows raise playfully, a teasing tone to his voice, “Do you not have enough in your room? Class hasn’t started yet.”</p><p>“I, uh, have a situation where I have sort of an extra pupil just for today. It’s a long story but yeah, odd situation.”</p><p>Heaving himself away from his desk, he lifts one of his chairs in one sweep, handing it over, “Odd situation you say? And a long story? Well, we have time to chat, lessons don’t start for a little while,” His eyes lock with mine until they drift upwards, staring at my hair for a longer than usual period of time. I immediately squirm, my stomach tying itself in many many knots. What the fuck is he doing?</p><p>“I, uh- hope I’m not overstepping here, man, but, um- have you brushed your hair this morning? It doesn’t look as… pristine as it usually does.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, my hand flies up on instinct, ears burning. I couldn’t have forgotten to brush my hair, <em>right</em>? That’s not like me. Surely I did. I did everything I usually do. I got dressed, I made the bed, I got dressed again because Eiki threw up on me, I ate, I brushed my teeth… oh <em>fuck</em> I forgot to brush my hair!</p><p>“Oh my God-” I want to die, I want to die, I want to die, “This looks so bad, oh my God. Sorry, I’ve had a very hectic morning and I forgot- oh God, what do I do-” Someone please kill me.</p><p>He blinks, setting his hand down on my shoulder with a reassuring smile, “No need to worry, I always carry a comb with me - today’s your lucky day, Sigve!” A quick glance back to my classroom, Eiki’s still swinging his legs slowly and not doing much else. Probably doesn’t have the energy, poor thing. The comb itself is handed over to me, its smooth handle now sitting safely in my palm, its typical Henrik bright colours a reassuring, welcoming sight. My lips twitch as I tug it through my hair, shooting a small mouthed ‘thank you’ to my co-worker who grins in response.</p><p>“So…” He leans on his desk, sitting on the edge of it, with his arms folded, “What’s up? You’re never usually this disorganised if you don’t mind me saying.”</p><p>“Like I said, odd situation, hectic morning…” You’re not exactly giving him a straight answer, Sigve. Come on, he’s going to see Eiki sooner or later, just tell him. “I- my son wasn’t feeling great this morning, he was sick and clearly couldn’t go to school and I couldn’t get a sitter, my parents are out of town, so I didn’t know what I was going to do. So I brought him in and that’s why I need an extra chair. I- I should get back to my classroom though, it’s a bad idea to leave a four-year-old alone for that long.”</p><p>I turn to leave as his eyes widen and head back to my son who, thankfully, hasn’t done anything crazy. Can’t trust young kids not to destroy a room while you are gone. It’s insane I left him alone for that long as well, what if he had been sick again? Curse Henrik Densen and his ability to drag you into a conversation. No, that’s not fair, Sigve, he was just being nice, like he always is. Don’t blame him for the sinking feeling of guilt that’s in your stomach right now, he did nothing wrong.</p><p>Great, now I feel even worse.</p><p>“Hey,” Seems like Henrik followed me, hanging round the door, gaze shifting from me to Eiki to me then Eiki again.</p><p>“Hey,” I reply, putting the new chair down next to mine and I watch as Eiki stumbles onto it slowly and steadily, movements carefully calculated as to not make the sick feeling come back.</p><p>“So… you have a son?”</p><p>“I do, yes,” Eiki’s gaze is now fixated on this strange new man he hasn’t met yet, blinking rapidly as if he were expecting some sort of introduction, “Uh, Henrik, this is my son, Eiríkur, or Eiki. Eiki, this is Henrik, he works with me.” A tiny shy nod is given as hands fumble for my shirt, clutching it anxiously. My son seemed to be unfortunate enough to not inherit his mother’s social skills and instead inherited mine. Poor thing is doomed when it comes to talking to people.</p><p>As if he had sensed the fear radiating off of my son, Henrik immediately crouches down, shooting him a small friendly smile. It reminds me of trying to get a cat or some other animal to be less afraid of you. Seeing as Henrik is probably around 6 foot and Eiki is a midget compared to him, it might just work.</p><p>“Hi, kid. Nice to meet ya! How old are you?”</p><p>He clutches harder, but still manages to get the words out, spreading his fingers out to demonstrate with his thumb tucked into his palm, “Four.”</p><p>“Oh wow! You’re practically a big boy then!” Ah, so he hit him with the magic words that most children love, it’s no secret most see being called a ‘big boy’ or a ‘big girl’ as a sign of their maturity, setting them apart from everyone else. And it works like magic. The grip lessens, his lips twitch into a shy smile and suddenly Eiki is feeling just a little bit more comfortable around Henrik.</p><p>He turns to me, “I did not know you had a son! Wow! No offense but, like, I didn’t see you as the sort of person who had kids.”</p><p>I walk over to him, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “Don’t want to say this loudly so he can hear me but, um, Eiki wasn’t planned.” And you’re right Henrik, I wasn’t the type of person who wanted children. But sometimes life throws curveballs at you and it makes you see things differently, perhaps even change your mind. Eiríkur was an unexpected surprise, yes, but I’m glad he’s here, and I’m glad I decided to be a part of his life. He’s my son. My incredibly shy, awkward, talented, tiny, <em>amazing</em> son. I love him so much.</p><p>“Also, I don’t really broadcast my personal life at work. Not my sort of thing, you know?” He nods as I say this, shooting me another small smile.</p><p>“So what’s the plan? Do you have anything for him to do or…?” I grimace at the realisation, having previously forgotten to come up with something, anything for my son to do other than sitting there listening to me talking about… what do I have planned for today again? Oh right, for starters I’m supposed to be teaching year 9 about conditions in the trenches of WWI. My four-year-old son is going to hear about trench foot oh my fucking God. That’s not- that’s not great, to say the least.</p><p>“Ah, from that expression I’d say that’s a no.”</p><p>“Oh my God, I can’t let my son learn about trench foot, Henrik-” And now he’s grimacing. Yeah. It’s bad. Very bad. Oh God. There’s a horrified whisper of ‘that’s your lesson plan today?’ not meant as a general ‘why the fuck did you decide to do that’ more of a ‘oh God’.</p><p>Eiki’s head snaps up suddenly, “Dad… what’s ‘trench foot’?” The speed at which Henrik and I’s faces drain of colour is probably laughable to an outsider. How the fuck do I- shit- I should have just whispered it- fuck shit fuck fuck fucking bitch dammit-</p><p>Frantic horrified looks are exchanged, two history teachers who don’t quite know how to steer the conversation away from this. It doesn’t help that Eiki just keeps looking at us expectantly, his wide eyes begging for an answer, for us to explain this unfamiliar term to him. How the hell does one explain trench foot to a four-year-old without traumatising them or more importantly, how does one get their kid to stop looking at them expectantly and move the conversation on?</p><p>We stammer for a response, Henrik’s gaze flitting around the room as he tries to come up with something, anything to get rid of this situation, his nervous smile back in full. Honestly to someone who didn’t know anything about history, it would look like Eiki had just asked us ‘where babies come from’ and we’d freaked the fuck out, you know, the usual parental response to that question.</p><p>Finally, Henrik’s gaze lands on the pile of papers on my desk and it’s as if a switch was flicked, “Hey, Eiki! Do you like drawing?” Ah, opted for the subject change. Risky move but if pulled off, it could work. Please please please work please. I need this. Come on… Please…</p><p>The shy smile appears again, displaying his tiny dimples on his tiny chubby cheeks, “Yeah! Drawing’s my favouroot!” ‘Favouroot’, God he’s so cute, I love him. It appears Henrik Densen may have just pulled off the risky subject change, though it’s too early to tell. Still don’t know what I’m going to do when teaching the lesson later… wonder if music would drown it out? Stick headphones in his ears for the icky stuff and play songs he likes. I hope that works at least. If not then I am very very screwed.</p><p>My co-worker taps my arm, a smirk on his face, probably from the possibility of having pulled off the subject change successfully, “Hey, I have an idea. How about I go grab some paper and pencils from one of the art rooms and he can spend the day drawing? I could always print off some of those educational worksheets with the sections to fill in and drawings to colour too!”</p><p>It’s probably the tiredness and stress from the crazy morning I’ve had, but I give him the widest grin and pull him into the biggest hug, wrapping my arms around him. “Henrik, you are a genius! Thank you so much for all your help, I really appreciate it.” At first he’s frozen, eyes wide and blinking in surprise. Then he warms into it, holding me close with his arms wrapped around my waist as I bury my head in his chest.</p><p>“It’s no problem, Sigve. It’s really no problem at all.”</p><p>*</p><p> Periods 1-4 are chaotic to say the least and I am so thankful when it’s lunchtime. In each lesson I’ve had to explain the situation to my students, be constantly wary of what my son is hearing from me, give him headphones when the conversation really isn’t suitable for him. I’ve also had to be wary of his state, had to pause my period 3 lesson for a tiny bit as he was sick again and had to disappear to clear it up, leaving Henrik (who thankfully had no lessons that period) in charge.</p><p>Lunchtime will finally give me a break. I need this break so fucking bad honestly. It’ll mean a temporary getaway from all the questions, the comments of ‘oh I didn’t know you had a kid’. But as I walk into the staff room with Eiki’s little fingers intertwined with mine, I remember that, oh wait these people are just going to make the same comments. I would turn around and head back to my classroom to eat there instead but heads have already turned, people are already aware of my presence. Dammit.</p><p>It could be my stressed out, tired, anxious brain exaggerating but I swear that most conversations quickly died out, all attention being on me and my son. If that really is happening, then by God do I despise it. If not, then damn I really need to go to sleep or something.</p><p>So I take a seat down by Henrik, who is currently talking to one of the English teachers, Alfred Jones. Alfred Jones is our only teacher from America and being an English teacher in an English school kind of makes him stand out a little. I don’t know why, maybe it’s just because he has no volume control at times or maybe its because of his long-standing feud with my friend Arthur, one of the other English teachers. You could chalk their rivalry up to the fact that their two nations did not get along very well in the past, or the fact that Alfred is a good 18 years younger than Arthur or just because their personalities are so drastically different. I don’t know but the point is, you shouldn’t let those two talk to each other for too long, it will only end in disaster and Arthur ranting at me and Vas for the next week or more.</p><p>I haven’t had much experience talking with Alfred Jones when he isn’t arguing about whatever literary analysis or just general thing with Arthur this time, mainly because, well, I can’t socialise for shit. But he seems like an ok guy, he always makes a point to smile at everyone (bar Arthur) and ask them what’s up. I guess you could say he’s a bit like Henrik, well, not entirely but the similarities are there. Makes sense why those two are talking to each other and seem to be getting along.</p><p>“Oh, ‘sup Sigve!” I flinch slightly as he greets me through a mouth full of food, followed by a hasty swallow as soon as he sees my expression. “Who’s this little dude?”</p><p>Henrik shoots me a smile and my lips twitch in response, remembering the hug. Oh God that was weird. Why did I…? I mean, he’s my co-worker, that was not professional in the slightest- What if he thinks I’m weird? Or- or- or-</p><p>Yeah, let’s just stop that spiralling train of thought right there. Best not to overthink it, idiot. You’re working yourself into a panic over one hug. One hug after a crazy morning. Henrik’s a friendly guy, I’m sure he thought nothing of it. Stop overthinking things. You do it too much for your own good sometimes.</p><p>“I’m Eiki!” My son beams, livening up once more, the red is starting to finally come back to his chubby cheeks, finally starting to relax and feel a bit more comfortable around people.</p><p>“Nice to meet you, little dude! I’m Alfred!” Upon hearing the name, my son picks up his sandwich hesitantly, muttering a small ‘Alfred’ in wonder. Perking up but still not feeling great, he picks at his sandwich, pulling it into small pieces.</p><p>“Eiríkur, come on now, don’t play with your food.” I chide and he pauses, scrambling for one bit to pop into his mouth with a defeated ‘sorry, Dad’.</p><p>“That’s ok, kid.” As soon as I ruffle his hair, he perks back up again, grinning once more.</p><p>Alfred places down his canteen burger, “I had no idea you were a father, Sigve. That’s really cool!” And there’s the dreaded question again. I’m sick and tired of the whole ‘wow I didn’t know you had a kid’. I guess it’s some slight karma for not telling anyone I have a son but Jesus Christ after a while you kinda want to just smash your head into the wall. Then come the comments of ‘I didn’t picture you as the type to have kids’, yeah well I’m not. I wouldn’t have been. But things change and here we are.</p><p>Don’t get me wrong, I love my son to bits, it’s just it can be hard to adjust to these curveballs. Even after four years I’m still adjusting to the fact that I am now a father and that this isn’t where I pictured my life going. But I’m here now, and I enjoy my life, for the most part. Today is one of those days that I’m not too fond of: the overly stressful days.</p><p>“What’s it like? …being a dad I mean. I imagine it’s stressful.” Oh isn’t it just. Yeah, that confirms it. I desperately need to sleep. I am way too cranky today. Damn sick bugs, <em>honestly</em>.</p><p>“It can be, yes. Especially to begin with but you learn, and you get used to it I suppose. There’s still times where you feel like you’re learning to swim in the deep end of the pool for the first time, if you know what I mean. But you learn and then you know for next time.”</p><p>His eyebrows furrow, glancing down at the half-eaten burger that’s now sitting on its wrapper, “Yeah. Guess it’s kind of like teaching but on a way more responsible and stressful level and you barely know the material yourself.” That’s… not a bad analogy actually. At least in my opinion. Sometimes I forget Alfred teaches English because… well… he can be a bit of a dumbass. It’s times like this though that I remember that he is an intellectual too. Capable of reading into things, figuring out how people might be feeling, analyse a text with a fine comb etc.  </p><p>He leans in to whisper and Henrik and I are suddenly very attentive, “I- uh- do you have any advice? On being a dad?” The question and the whispering combined makes me wonder…</p><p>“Alfred, is this advice for you by any chance? Are you having a kid?”</p><p>Eyes widen and ears go pink, stammering in response, “Uh, yeah. Just found out a week ago and I’m kind of panicking. I don’t think I’m responsible enough to be a father.” For once Henrik has fallen silent, looking down at his own burger as if he were feeling awkward overhearing this conversation, alienated from it.</p><p>“How far along is she? Have you had the first ultrasound or…?”</p><p>“Nah. She’s like, a month pregnant.”</p><p>I rest my hand on his arm in reassurance, “So, you’re worried about whether or not you are responsible enough? All I can really say is, you’ve got eight months. People can change a lot in eight months, Alfred. And it’s plenty of time for you to get some books on parenting, attend birthing classes with her, get the supplies you need. Ok, that’s probably not the best advice in the world but my point is you have time, time to learn the material, time to better yourself if you feel that’s necessary. Make sure you find an activity that calms you down as well, preparing for a baby is a stressful time and it’s important to find a balance whether that be yoga, meditation, mindfulness colouring, whatever helps you relax. You have time.”</p><p>My eyes flicker to Eiki, who’s managed to eat half of his sandwich, causing me to beam with pride. Well done, kid, well done. The other half lies discarded, and I have a feeling it won’t be touched but that’s ok. He’s not feeling very well and I’m not going to force him to eat when he clearly doesn’t feel like it. He’s done well.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really excited about having a baby, it’s just very stressful as well.” Yeah, I feel that. “Plus not to mention I’m fairly certain her parents are going to kill me.”</p><p>Henrik finally chimes in, finding the right moment to rejoin the conversation, frowning, “Why would her parents want to kill you?”</p><p>“Oh, her family is extremely religious. They don’t even know we’re living together and the fact that she’s now pregnant out of wedlock is… not great in their eyes, to say the least. We’re not going to tell them for a while but when they find out they won’t be happy.” Shaking the nervous look on his face off, he shoots us a smile, “But everything will be fine! There’s more important things than her parents approval, like the little one that’s now on the way!”</p><p>We nod, slightly content with that answer. Glancing at Eiki once more, I turn to Alfred, “Hey, if there’s any specific questions you have, you know you can come and find me, right? I’d be happy to help, even if it’s the most random question ever.”</p><p>“Thanks, Sigve! Will do, dude!”</p><p>*</p><p>Thankfully, I don’t have a lesson period 5 so Eiki and I mainly chill out. He does some more drawing; I mark some of these papers and let him stick a colourful ‘well done’ sticker onto those that did really well. He enjoys the activity and every time I finish a paper he asks if it’s sticker time. Breaks my heart slightly when the mark of the paper isn’t one deserving of a ‘well done’ sticker and I have to tell him that it is not sticker time. It’s really hard saying no to that puppy dog face, but I have to.</p><p>From my glances over at N11, Henrik doesn’t have a lesson either. Guess we both got lucky. He’s leaning back in his chair, I think I can see the glare of YouTube on his computer and a coffee mug is once again in his hand. Once again he looks chilled out, relaxed. Whereas I’m pretty sure if you took a look at me I would be tired and dead inside. It’s been too long a day but at least after review I get to go home. Probably will stick on the tv with Eiki and with any luck I’ll fall asleep. Boy, do I need a rest.</p><p>I glance back to N11 and see Henrik opening my door, grinning like a banshee, “Hey, Sigve and Eiki! Just checking in to see how you both are doing!” Dead inside. Very very dead inside. I just want to lay my head down on my desk and sleep for eternity. Eiki was sick all morning and he has more energy than me dammit. Curse kids and their boundless amounts of energy. Wish adults could retain that, maybe I wouldn’t have to rely on coffee as much if that was the case. There’s no point lying to Henrik, I’m too tired to even pretend that I have the energy for this shit, so I let out a heavy groan.</p><p>“Wow, you look like in need of a break, Sigve. Can’t the papers wait another day?”</p><p>“No, because then my students will start asking when they are going to be marked and I can’t deal with those sort of questions right now,” I sigh, letting my head finally fall onto the desk with a  resounding <em>thonk. </em>Eiki’s head snaps up from the corner of my eyes, his eyes widening in concern.</p><p>“Ah shhhhhhhh…<em>sugar</em>,” He manages to catch himself just in time before I have the opportunity to chew him out for swearing in front of a four-year-old, “Those questions are annoying, yeah. Especially when they ask the day after the test it’s like, I am not a robot thank you very much what makes you think I would have marked <em>thirty</em> tests overnight are you insane.” I hum in response, head still on the desk in defeat.</p><p>“But hey, don’t kill yourself trying to mark those tests. You need a break more than anything else and if anyone bothers you about it, then I personally will fight them.”</p><p>“Thanks, Henrik.” I say just as there’s a knock at the door. Lifting my heavy head, I glance over, blinking rapidly in an effort to stay awake. Short blonde hair, glasses, a familiar smile. Elva, Eiríkur’s mother. What- what is she doing here?</p><p>She enters, waving happily at Eiki who slowly gets up and plods over to her, wrapping his small arms around her legs. “Hi, Sig. I, uh, my boss let us leave early today after the big meeting, so I figured I’d come take him off your hands,” She crouches down so she’s at Eiki’s eye level, voice soft, hand reaching out to tuck his stray hairs behind his ear, “How are you feeling, sweetie?”</p><p>“Better. Missed you, Mummy.” He clings to her and there’s a brief pang of jealousy until I shake it away. Stop overthinking things, Sigve. He hasn’t seen her since last week, of course he misses her. He feels the same way about you when it’s her week. You’re tired and overthinking things you don’t need to.</p><p>“Missed you too, darling. Glad you’re feeling better.”</p><p>I rest my cheek on my propped-up hand, something to keep me from resting it on the desk again, “Take him off my hands? El, I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to do that. I can look after him just fine.”</p><p>She raises her eyebrows at me, her classic ‘Sigve, you are full of shit’ look, “Says the man who had his head on the desk and looks very tired and very dead inside. Come on, Sig, let go of your pride for once and let me look after him. You helped me out earlier, and now it’s time for me to do the same – you deserve rest.” I begin to stammer out a response, but Elva holds up her hand, stopping me, “I don’t want to hear it, Sigve Thomassen. <em>I</em> know you need a rest, <em>you</em> know you need a rest, just swallow your pride and let me do this. I won’t hear a word against it.”</p><p>I know Elva and that means I know she won’t take no for an answer. There’s no point fighting. Might as well give up now. Sighing deeply, I reply, “Fine. But drop him back at my place tomorrow morning please,” As soon as she smiles at me, I quickly add, “Thank you, El, I appreciate it. See you tomorrow.” Goodbyes are said, Eiki’s coat is put on and the two head out, leaving just Henrik and I left in N13.</p><p>God, I’m so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open. Elva seemed to have come at the best time, bless her. I rest my head back on the desk as Henrik pulls up a chair, my blond curls spilling over the numerous unmarked papers, an unfriendly sight that only adds more stress. Well, at least I’m only responsible for myself now, that should help ease it up a little, but it doesn’t get rid of the guilt I feel whenever I count how many papers I haven’t marked.</p><p>“So, that was Eiríkur’s mother? She seems nice!” Henrik attempts to start up a conversation, poking my arm in a concerned manner.</p><p>“Yeah, Elva. We’re, um, not together anymore but still very good friends. I’ve known her for ages.” I mumble into my arm, just loud enough for him to hear me.</p><p>He hums in response, adding, “Yeah, I kinda assumed based on the whole ‘my week’, ‘your week’ parts. It’s good that the two of you still get along, it’s nice when exes can be friends. Were you two married or…? Ah, wait, sorry, forgot you don’t like to talk about your personal life. You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”</p><p>Glancing up at him, I know I’m way too tired to care and something about that friendly smile makes me want to open up about my entire life story, but I restrain myself, sticking to the question topic. “Uh, yes, we were. But it’s kind of a weird story because Eiki didn’t coincide with our marriage. We were in the same year as each other in secondary school but never talked. When we did I think we were 27 or something? We quickly fell in love and decided to get married after only 6 months of dating.”</p><p>“Now, I won’t deny the possibility that some people can get married quite early on in the relationship and stay together forever. But most of the time it is not like that. And the fact that our parents weren’t entirely thrilled and tried to talk sense into us made us only want to do it <em>more</em>, you know? Nothing big happened in our marriage, we just concluded a year or two into it that we didn’t feel the same way about each other as we had when we first started dating. No fights or anything, nothing but an amicable divorce.”</p><p>“About a year after the divorce was finalised we got together and reminisced about old times and we may have gotten quite drunk and things… escalated if you know what I mean. A few months after she calls me, asking if I can go to this hospital appointment with her, reassuring that she was ok, she just needed me to be there. I arrive and she’s pregnant and the appointment is the first ultrasound. You know how you said I didn’t seem like the type to want kids? Well, I didn’t but after seeing my tiny unborn son and thinking about it long and hard, I decided that I’d give fatherhood a chance… and here I am now. I don’t regret it and I’m happy with how my life turned out. So there you have it.”</p><p>Henrik blinks at me, “Wow. That’s certainly something,” He laughs, “Well, I’m glad things worked out in the end. I’m assuming you would like me to keep this a secret?” Damn, what a nice guy - he understands and respects my wishes. I probably shouldn’t be so suspicious of him; I may just be overthinking this whole ‘who is Henrik Densen’ thing. A nice guy. A nice friendly guy. That’s what we’ll conclude for now.</p><p>“Yes, thank you, Henrik. For that and for all your help today. It means the world to me.”</p><p>Patting my arm, he gets up, heading towards the door, “No problem, Sig. No problem at all.”</p><p>As he turns to leave, I raise my head off the desk, calling out to him, “Oh, and Henrik?” We lock eyes, and the tired-induced honesty rushes out of me before I can try stop it, leaving just the pang of guilt that follows a second after, “Don’t call me Sig. Only people I’m really close to can call me Sig.”</p><p>Surprisingly, his reaction is not one of embarrassment, or sadness, as a soft smile fills his face, “Well then, I guess I’ll just have to look forward to the day when I can finally call you Sig instead of Sigve. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sigve, hope you can get the rest you deserve. And remember not to kill yourself trying to mark those papers today, wait for a time when you’re less tired and stressed, you’ll make less mistakes that way as well. Goodbye, Sigve.”</p><p>“Goodbye, Henrik. Thank you again.”</p><p>“Like I said, it’s no problem, Sigve. No problem at all.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>All my other fics right now feel like I'm bashing my head against a wall but this chapter was easy to write for some reason. Maybe it's because I've been having intense brainrot for this fanfic. Usually when I start writing a new fanfic the brainrot goes away but this fic has only made it stronger. But hey, I'm not complaining because I now have loads of ideas for chapters so expect more Henrik and Sigve soon! </p><p>Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oops look who started yet another fic because they have no self control. </p><p>But seriously, I am very excited for this AU and I think it's my first time writing slice of life? Not sure though since I cannot determine what genres half my fics are for the life of me lol</p><p>Also, this is my first time setting a fic where I live and it's,, just so easy? Why did I never do this before? Like, the school is based on mine and N11 and N13 are actual rooms so it's extremely easy for me to visualise it and I don't know, I just love that, it makes this fic feel so personal.</p><p>Anyways, I have a lot planned for this AU and I hope you all like it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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